Wrath of the Swarm
by SolarisAce
Summary: The Queen of Blades has fallen, and in her place lies Sarah Kerrigan. The Queen of Blades was a being whose cruelty was unmatched, having taken more lives than any other in history. Her lover, Jim Raynor, moved heaven and earth to free her from the Zerg infestation. Another factor has presented itself: another Kerrigan. AU aspects. Currently DORMANT.
1. Prologue

Who am I? Do you really want to know the answer? I'm liable to get a bullet in my head if I told you my name. I'll tell you, but first let's take my life from the top…

I was born on TarKossia, and was a natural psychic. I was quite powerful, too—so powerful that I was taken away from my parents soon after I was born. Hospital records claim that I had died soon after birth, a victim of "unexpected complications"—they didn't even let my parents see the supposed body. Regardless, they had another child four years later.

Life as a Confederate Ghost was hell—the training was just the start of it all. My instructor was someone named "Captain Rumm" and was the biggest piece of work I've had to deal with. I was four when he was tasked with training me—man seemed to get a kick out of beating me and forcing me to kill. It seemed the only way he eased down was when I killed and liked it—I made for a convincing sadist at such a young age.

Eight years and a promotion to Major later, Ruum transferred to train some other poor person. I got stuck with another trainer named "Wolcott". He was stern and he had a nasty temper, but wasn't anywhere near as bad as Rumm—turns out that if you got Wolcott drunk enough, he was surprisingly pleasant.

At sixteen, I got placed in an augmentation project simply dubbed "PLUS" (some precursor to Project Shadowblade)—it had a catastrophically high failure and mortality rate. I was one of a fortunate few to get off with little-to-no complication. Internal cybernetic augmentations, chemical therapy, gene modification…if there was anything the Confederate project _didn't_ do to me, I can't think of it.

The next fourteen years went on without a hitch for me. I was a stone-cold professional—when let loose against any political rivals of the Old Families, I _always_ got the job done. I was also a master hacker—no security could stand up to me. Before the Sons of Korhal rose up, I was let loose on small insurrectionist groups—not that I was fond of doing so. These groups were said to have ceased existing overnight due to my skill—I was _the_ top Ghost in the Confederacy.

An expert in arctic warfare and with top-notch marksmanship skills (I rarely needed a scope, for crying out loud), I gained the nickname "White Death".

When 2500 C.E. rolled around, rebellion broke out against the Confederacy. I had little involvement in either side. Then the Dominion replaced the Confederacy, and I ended up taking an active frontline role during the Brood War. I was the sole survivor of the Fringe World that I was stationed at: Luthien—this, combined with my years of service in the Confederacy, earned me the title "Lion of the Fringe".

Two years later, I was doing recon work on another Fringe World called Kentares when the Zerg Swarm attacked, and Emperor Mengsk ordered a withdrawal of all combat troops…save for me. The civvies were left alone to fend for themselves. It was there I met the dreaded Queen of Blades face-to-face, and I fought and survived against her terrible power. I survived and escaped the planet by the skin of my teeth, in large part thanks to prototype technology: the Psi Amplifier.

After the hell on Kentares my faith in the Dominion (as if I had any to start with) was shaken up, and I began to dig deeper into its affairs—I hacked into files that only Mengsk himself would have access to. Things came to a head when I learned the truth about the Queen of Blades: she was once human—not just any human, but one named Sarah Kerrigan. And how did this happen? Our "dear" Emperor Mengsk left her to die at the Swarm's hands…with Psi Emitters placed on Tarsonis, no less…

Unfortunately, I couldn't expose Mengsk because I could only keep one set of files before being lock out of the databanks, and I chose to keep the files on Sarah Kerrigan…

You might be asking "what does any of this have to do with you?" Well, do you want to know my name now?

It's William Kerrigan—my father's name was Patrick, and that made Sarah Kerrigan my younger sister. Are you still looking to put a bullet in my head?

In any case, I ended up leaving the Dominion and worked as an independent mercenary who took anti-Dominion jobs. Then I ended up meeting _the_ Jim Raynor, and somehow ended up involved in a gambit to disinfest the Queen of Blades. At the end of it all, he got Sarah back and carried her off Char.

Raynor would like to think that the monster that murdered billions four years ago wasn't Sarah Kerrigan, but rather a corruption of the person caused by her infestation. After what I went through on Kentares and recently on Char, I have my doubts—I can't shake the feeling that this was all a wasted effort…


	2. Chapter 1: Flashback

**A/N: I've had the prologue and first four complete chapters of this sitting on my hard drive since last summer, so I figure I may as well post them. For those of you following my Skyrim fanfic "Of Legends" (yes, all one of you), know that I'm slowly, but surely, writing it. Unfortunately, the time between updates is bound to get longer once the semester comes around the bend. I _don't_ plan on giving up on it, though. To start, I'll upload what I have of this monthly-chapter 5 is still in the works-so I hope you're all willing to bear with me.**

**And yes, for the first couple chapters, I _am_ tearing a few pages from a deadlocked fic that's _also_ StarCraft-related.**

**Primary Zerg Hive Cluster, Char | 20 minutes prior to "All In"**

**POV: William "Billy" Kerrigan, AKA "Will Winter"**

One word: FUBAR…

That's exactly how this recon turned out for me; I scout the Zerg strength around the primary hive cluster only to get captured on the orders of Sarah Kerrigan herself. I was kept in place by the pincers of two Hydralisks flanking each of my shoulders, my psionic abilities weakened to the point where I could only touch minds—and I could feel the Swarm's hunger.

All around me, monsters ranging from the lowly Zergling to the mighty Ultralisk stared with intent eyes, doing what I could best describe as "drooling" at the thought of my flesh rending and bones snapping in their mouths. I could feel their eagerness, as well as irritation that their Queen ordered me kept alive for Christ-knows-what reason as they dragged me through the organic tunnels. I knew I was being dragged to the center—the air became more humid, and the Creep that was under my legs grew thicker.

Soon enough, I was in the bowels of the tunnel kingdom that hundreds, if not thousands, of Zerg creatures surrounded me like someone on a concert stage. In the center sat a pile of bones and flesh held together by the Creep—it looked like one big mass of tendon, bone, and muscle arranged in the shape of a throne.

The creatures in the cavern snarled in unison and as if on cue, the woman of the hour—the infamous Queen of Blades—crept out of the darkness and sat down lazily on the throne. The Hydralisks restraining me shoved me forward and drove my knees hard into the pulsing ground, but I gave no satisfaction of a grunt of pain.

"My own personal taxi service," I snarked. "A little bit rough for my tastes; too bad I don't have a bullet handy." The Queen of Blades laughed amusedly at my show of defiance, her yellow glowing eyes rolling around in their sockets.

"My, my…so feisty," she said in an alien voice that reverberated every single word. "Did the 'Lion of the Fringe' get rusty over the past two years?" She forced my chin up with scaled hands and forced me to look at her straight in the eye—she was a corruption of the woman in Raynor's photo. Her body was decked in purple carapace, her fingers were tipped with sharp talons, and the ivory wings that everyone knew her for were as sharp as ever. The tip of one wing caressed the side of my face, treating me like a toy or doll to play with. The only thing remotely human about her was her face, but it was discolored with a greenish hue and decorated with sadistic pleasure.

"The only thing 'rusty' is the knife I've been saving just for you," I replied, as defiant as before. "It's a pity I won't get to use it, Queenie…"

"Respect, weak fool, or else I skewer you on my wings," she warned me, her uncooperative prisoner. I looked deep in her eyes, and I had second thoughts about Jim's plan—whatever humanity was left in Sarah was buried so deep it may as well not exist. I saw no point to disinfesting her; at best, the infestation would only be suppressed, only to reemerge with _everything_ that defined the Queen of Blades in the first place.

"Go on, kill me," I taunted. "It's not like you haven't had plenty of practice!" Despite my attempt at goading her, she laughed as though I was a welcome change from her last meal.

"I will enjoy you so much," she chuckled, and looked to the creatures restraining me. "Leave us; we have much to talk about." The Hydralisks released me, leaving me dangling in the Queen's grip and with my hands tied behind my back. Kerrigan released me and let me fall on my knees in the Creep. The stuff pulsed and throbbed under my knees and felt cold to touch. It was no surprise—Creep was essentially a giant fleshy weed that dug into the ground—but the cold touch added to the tension I already felt.

"Now," Kerrigan started, walking around me with hips swaying with every step. "Why don't you start by telling me who you are and why you're here?

"What does it matter if you know who I am?" I said, with disgust evident in both my voice and my eyes. "I was doing recon, as you know."

"I like being acquainted with my…prey," she chuckled in a high-pitched tone laced with sadism.

"Oh, I feel so lucky," I said as I looked up at the ceiling. Corpses, both Terran and Protoss, hung from the ceiling in great numbers, attached by web-like fleshy goo. Limbs hung on individual strands like wind chimes.

"Do you like my…exhibits? They were all far less entertaining then you are," she said, her arms theatrically spread out as if presenting a wonder of the world. "You're so entertaining, in fact, that you would be wasted up there with the rest of them. Maybe I'll keep you as a pet?"

"Enjoy your bragging while it lasts, Queenie," I taunted. "Your rule of the Swarm is about to come to an end in the next hour or so—I believe I should _thank_ you for taking time out of your day to talk to me…saved Jim the trouble of clearing out your front lawn…"

"What type of fool do you take me for?" she asked, her clawed hand gripping my neck and yanking me in the air, bringing my eyes level with hers. "I would never have allowed your precious comrades to get so close if I thought they would pose a threat to me. Jim's plan will fail, the fleet will fall, and then the entire sector will fall to the Swarm—and you will watch, whether you like it or not."

"You're overestimating your chances," I said. "Why don't you go out there and see for yourself?"

Pain ripped through my body as one of her signature blades pierced my gut, leaving one gaping hole that just missed my abdominal aorta. I fell to the ground as she released me. "Thank you soooo much for the suggestion," she cooed, her tongue tracing her lips. "Oh, don't worry: you won't bleed out from that—I have plans for you when this is over, my pet."

I struggled to sit up, but to no avail as she brought her face mere inches to mine.

"That's right," she said. "Infestation awaits you after this—you have such untapped promise, and I will make good use of your abilities…and your memories."

My head started to feel light as I fell to the floor; my vision blackened, and all I could make out was sound. The Queen of Blades loved chewing the scenery, it seemed.

"Come, my underlings! Defend your queen from those who would harm us! Arise, and let us take back our planet from the Terrans! THIS ENDS NOW!" Kerrigan commanded, and I could feel the millions of Zerg respond. Zerglings, Banelings, Roaches, Hydralisks, and so many more…it was all so overwhelming.

**Around an Hour Later, Primary Hive Cluster**

**POV: Medic Amelia Sanderson, Private First Class**

The interior of the primary hive cluster was dead silent after the Artifact's energy nova went off. Whatever Zerg remained littered the ground as though ruptured from within; the cluster itself remained alive, as did the largely human body of one Sarah Kerrigan. Her form, stripped of the alien carapace that had covered it for four years, lay stark naked on the ground.

She gripped herself as if in pain, and the Commander cradled her in his armored arms. A voice was heard from within another helmet, lost in static; when Amelia tried to place where she heard the voice before, Commander Raynor interrupted her thoughts.

"Tychus," he growled. "What have you done?"

"I made a deal with the devil, Jimmy—she dies, I go free," the man replied.

"We all have our choices to make…" Raynor trailed.

"Damn shame…"

There were two shots, and one body—the body of one Tychus Findlay…with the Commander standing over it, revolver still smoking.

**...Minutes Later…**

"Commander, I found him!" Amelia called out.

William had his hands bound behind his back, and by all appearances was barely conscious and aware of what was going on around him. But he was fading rapidly, and he bled heavily from a wound in his gut—it neither hit the aorta nor went all the way through, as if whatever inflicted it had intentionally missed.

Seemed to her that the former Queen of Blades wanted him unconscious, not dead…

"How is he?" Raynor replied.

"He's alive, but he's bleeding badly," Amelia said, already hard at work trying to stabilize him. "I'm patching him up, sir."

William seemed to have managed to use his psionic powers to stem the bleeding, so applying the nanites needed to accelerate the body's natural healing mechanics was straightforward. Scans didn't show significant internal injuries—merely a few grazes that mended very easily.

"Make it fast…we've gotta move quickly. The Zerg are going feral!"

"Just hang in there, William," she reassured. "You're going to make it…"


	3. Chapter 2: Tense Disagreements

**Three weeks after disinfestation, Research Station EB-103 (Umojan Space)**

**November 24, 2504 – 14:35 Station Time**

**William "Billy" Kerrigan, AKA "Will Winter"**

I winced ever so slightly as my injury acted up again, reminding me of that day on Char. Trailing my fingers over the wound, my body stung and burned in protest to the touch—it was a double-edged sword: my wound either itched or it burned. I was wary as I moved around in my bunk, especially considering who the facility harbored.

I didn't doubt for a second that Sarah was probing every mind around her, desperate to understand what was going on around her. After what happened in the Kirkegaard Belt, I couldn't blame her—if I could sense the suspicion and fear in the minds around me, then so could she. Poor Annabelle Thatcher—her death, accidental or not, was a harsh reminder that Sarah's psionic abilities were not only rapidly returning, but were a danger to all of us. Everyone's fears about Sarah were perfectly justified.

Lucky for me, she wasn't going to dig in my head unless I _wanted_ her to; whatever the augmentations years ago had done to me, they had made it extremely difficult for other psychics to read me. It was common knowledge that most Terran psychics lack any ability of blocking their thoughts—Ghosts found each other _very_ easy to read because of this.

I sifted through the memories of my life, remembering the carnage I saw during the Brood War: fires cause by acid bombers, building supports collapsing, people being dragged off to be used as either food or genetic material for the Zerg. Blood painted the walls of the settlements of Luthien, and I could hear the wailing cries for help as if they were still happening. The worst part about it all was this: all that slaughter, all that destruction had been inflicted for the mere hell of it.

All that had happened by the hands of a woman who, by Raynor's testimony, was once a morally-upright, amicable soldier—an assassin who wept, if you'll indulge the metaphor. If all that was true, it meant that Sarah had once been more human than _I_ was, because during my years as a Ghost, I had been the most professional, coldest soldier you were likely to meet. I had held to one saying: "Get the job done, at all costs." I had never once cared about collateral damage or civilian casualties…

It made for an ironic switch after the Brood War—whereas the Queen of Blades evolved into the most notorious mass-murderer in history, I became the very reluctant soldier that she had once been. I _became_ the assassin who wept.

I got off the bed and grabbed my C-10 canister rifle, knowing that my shift was in two hours. I wasn't really keen on engaging the ceiling in a staring contest for that amount of time, to say nothing of my desire to visit the Mess Hall. My wound stung, but I toughed it out—it was a tickle compared to the augmentations I had been through.

The Umojans had considerably less manpower than the Dominion—patrol traffic was very light at this time—and they lacked the controls that the Dominion put on its own troops, but compensated with cutting-edge tech. The only marines I saw up and about were guarding lab entrances and Sarah's cell. The cell glass was two-way, bulletproof, and wrapped in energy shielding with neosteel shutters ready to close at the push of a button.

She paid me no mind, and seemed unaware that I was probing her surface thoughts. I read mixed emotions: rage toward Mengsk, and love for Raynor. Each fought to gain ground over the other, but she wasn't forced to choose between them right now.

Her thoughts suddenly ceased as if a plug had been pulled, and her eyes shot open and gazed around before resting on me. I didn't miss a beat; my eyes focused on the door out of this area of the lab. She didn't probe my mind; for all I knew, there might have been another Ghost nearby that she was reading.

* * *

The food in the mess hall was "chef's surprise"; meaning basically preserved military rations topped with actual food to make it look appetizing. The resulting combination tasted like ass, but kept you going for a good six hours. I just downed everything as fast as possible so that I tasted nothing, happy to be the only one in the mess hall.

A hand landed on my shoulder…

_Christ!_

I turned my head over my shoulder to look, but I already knew who it was. "Jim? Jesus, don't do that. I _hate_ it when you do that!"

"Sorry `bout that, kid," he replied in his usual drawl, reminiscent of an Old West cowboy.

My mood lightened at the sentence, "I'm two months your senior, Jim. I can hardly warrant being called a kid by _you_."

Jim sat down next to me, as a gesture of camaraderie. Despite the small age difference between us, he looked like an older, more haggard version of me. We both sported beards, and hair roughly the same length. My features were different, though—youth-taught as well—and my eyes were greyish.

"I'm not looking forward to the posting," I commented.

"Sarah doesn't even know that she ever had an older brother, if that's what you're worried about," Jim sighed.

"We've had this discussion before, Jim," I retorted. "You _know_ exactly what I'm worried about…"

"Everything that happened, Billy…it was only what the Zerg made her into," Jim repeated, sounding every bit like some love-struck teenager who refused to see facts. "That wasn't Sarah."

"Jim, I think your love for her is clouding your judgment," I muttered. "Let's assume it started out like that—let's assume Sarah was forced into that role. It's been over four years, and time changes a person…I know that, and so do you. Even if you're forced into a role, once you play it long enough, you _become_ the role and _relish_ in it. I don't have to talk about Kentares again, do I?"

"You said you touched her mind," he replied pleadingly.

"I saw the pleasure of slaughter in her mind, and no voice cried out for help," I said. "The Swarm was like a limb to her: it responded to what _her_ mind told it to do. She was the puppeteer, not the puppet of the Swarm."

"But back on Char, four years ago and again three weeks ago," Jim argued, "I heard her in my mind, crying for help. She begged me to save her—_that_ was the real Sarah! I heard it: 'Don't give up…'!"

"_I've_ seen something different, Jim! I looked deep in those eyes on Char, and saw what little humanity remained was buried beyond any reach—I was stabbed in the gut, left to bleed, and threatened with infestation," I said, tone laced with anger. "You may have pulled her back for now, but she's a bomb ready to blow, Jim. I know about the crystal Zeratul gave you, and I don't care; I think you're making a huge mistake!"

"That's uncalled for, Billy!"

"Is it?" I asked sarcastically. "I touched her mind…I touched the minds of the Swarm—I don't buy for one second that the Zerg were ever anything other than monsters, no matter what Zeratul or Tassadar say. How hard is this for you to understand? Queen of Blades…Sarah Kerrigan…there's no difference!"

The punch interrupted my next thoughts, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor with blood dripping from my mouth. A slicing sting tore from the inside of my lip, and the coppery-tasting liquid found my tongue.

"This isn't up for debate, Billy," Raynor stood, looking down at me. For all the anger in his posture, his face held a chilling serenity actually more reminiscent of my old self than of Jim. "If you plan on remaining a part of this crew, you'd better not start second-guessing my decisions—let alone, second-guessing them after the fact."

Wiping the small stream of blood from my chin, I stood without a word. My eyes met his, and for a minute I thought this was going to turn into a full-on brawl.

"That's enough, you two," a younger voice said, and I turned to see Valerian Mengsk at the Mess Hall exit. "Tension in the station is high enough without you two adding to it—Lieutenant, whatever your experiences with Kerrigan and the Zerg have been in the past, you're going to have to agree to disagree."

I turned away from Valerian and met Jim's eyes. "Do what you want, Commander. Mark my words, though: something is going to happen that will prompt her to return to the Swarm, and if you keep up this naïve notion that things between the two of you can be what they were before, you're setting yourself up for heartbreak."

I didn't give him a chance to respond when I stormed past Valerian and out of the Mess Hall. I just wanted to get to my shift and get my mind off of all this…


	4. Chapter 3: Mending?

**A/N: So, it's been a while coming, but this chapter went through several edits and rewrites be fore I decided to upload it like this. And lest anyone complain, I will say that StarCraft II is property of Blizzard Entertainment-I neither own the franchise, nor do I profit or _intend_ to profit from this story.**

**As usual, feel free to comment and review, follow and offer advice.**

* * *

**Three weeks after disinfestation, Research Station EB-103 (Umojan Space)**

**November 24, 2504 – 16:47 Station Time**

**Sarah Kerrigan**

Sarah hadn't noted many security vulnerabilities in her cell, but she sensed that both of the marines guarding her were on the nervous side. Who could blame them? No less than three weeks ago, she was still the Queen of Blades—the title of the most hated figure in the Koprulu Sector.

Sarah didn't recall everything from her time as the Queen of Blades, but she recalled enough. And what she remembered frightened her…no, what she _relived_ terrified her: the torment of her body being stripped down to bone, twisted and taken apart, pieced back together with parts she didn't recognize. This was the suffering that she dealt to others a billion-fold…

She remembered through the eyes of the Zerg; as the Zerg, she had descended on a doomed yet determined woman, struggling to save her daughter.

"_Mama! Mama!" The child struggled against being handed over by her mother to the stranger trying to save her life. She didn't want to leave her mother behind._

_Fruitless…all of it was fruitless. They would all die in seconds: mother, daughter, and the kindly stranger._

Billions dead, and then Sarah remembered the vow made four years ago.

"_It may not be tomorrow, darlin'. It may not even happen with an army at my back. But rest assured: I'm the man who's going to kill you some day,"_ Jim had sworn. He had vowed he would avenge the death and carnage _she_ had caused—not the Queen of Blades, not the Zerg proper—Kerrigan herself.

He had had all the time after the Xel'naga Artifact fired to keep that vow, but he hadn't—he had even _shielded_ her from a bullet fired by his former best friend, Tychus. She remembered hearing _his_ voice from a communicator in Tychus's helmet—the voice of the man she had hated for leaving her to die, because in so doing, he had been directly responsible for her rebirth as the Queen of Blades in the first place…

Arcturus Mengsk…

_But, Jim…why did you spare me?_ Why did he break his vow?

"…here to relieve you two," a voice interrupted her thoughts.

She looked over to see a man dwarfed by the Umojan marines—thick mane of brown hair, slicked back and ending just under the neck. He looked like a Ghost, or something similar. His HEV suit was of a different make than other Ghosts—whereas the suit that Sarah was wearing was form-fitting all around, the man's suit was more heavily armored in the torso region. She noted his C-10 Mk. VI rifle—being sniper/designated marksman rifle, high-magnification scopes were standard-issue among them. His rifle appeared to have swapped these for simple folding sights, as if modified for close to mid-range encounters. An aggressive soldier, Sarah figured.

What interested Sarah most was his psionic power—it practically radiated off of the man. She briefly touched his mind, and knew it was the Ghost from earlier—the one who had probed her mind. Bizarrely, she couldn't dig any further than his surface thoughts…yet she felt very little active attempt to resist. No Terran was known to naturally resist being psychically read, though—it was something one had to be trained, and possibly modified, to do.

Her thoughts were broken again as the two marines left the area, leaving the Ghost to stand guard…

* * *

**November 24, 2504 – 17:50 Station Time**

**William "Billy" Kerrigan, AKA "Will Winter"**

Being angry was a good thing in a situation like this—it meant all I had to focus on was my assignment: guarding Sarah. The last hour went by uneventfully, so I allowed myself _some_ amount of relaxation.

I took the time to maintain my sidearm: a customized .45 caliber automatic pistol—this particular design dates back to the 23rd Century. It's an old primer and gunpowder design that's now considered obsolete since it doesn't even dent CMC power armor.

I got this piece as a gift from old Wolcott after my first-ever mission—I really miss the old bastard. I make the ammunition myself—fully manufactured rounds are extremely hard to come by these days since these types of weapons rarely see action outside of civilian life.

If you keep these things well-maintained, stored in the right conditions, and swap out old parts for new ones, they pretty much last forever…

Hey, don't give me that "you're insane" look! If Raynor could have a revolver that does jack-shit to power armor, why shouldn't I carry an automatic?

Besides, I like to try "experimenting" with these types of weapons. When psionic powers get applied, all sorts of possibilities open up.

Satisfied with my handiwork, I take out a pack of cigarettes.

With nothing else holding my interest, I thought back to the argument I had with Jim. I had meant every word, and all I had done was to relay my observations. I stood by my impressions and I knew that under normal circumstances, Jim wouldn't have held the fact that I disagreed with his views against me. But this was about Sarah—his lover. He had shot and killed Findlay for attempting to execute her—fair enough, but I was not convinced that Jim was still able to make rational decisions right now.

Jim had an Ihan crystal—a Protoss memory storage device—given to him by Zeratul. Jim claimed that it told of Zeratul's personal experiences on the moon of Ulaan, his encounter of some type of Protoss-Zerg hybrid on Zhakul, and his return to Aiur. It held a view of the Overmind's apocalyptic vision—a future in which Kerrigan had died, and nothing was able to stand up to some dark force behind the Hybrids' creation. I hadn't seen the crystal myself, but…

I had just lit a cigarette when I heard knocking on the surface nearby—Sarah was right there behind me.

So much for _that_ idea…

I kept a loose grip on my rifle in one hand and turned to face Sarah. "Kerrigan?" I asked. "What do you want?"

"You're a Ghost, aren't you?" she asked, bluntly.

"Yeah—2nd Lieutenant Winter, ex-Confederate and Dominion Ghost. And? What difference does that make to you?"

"I'm bored in here," she said. "I can only take apart things and put them back together for so long…" She motioned toward the disassembled metal ball sitting near her bed.

"Well, there's always a Rubik's Cube," I quipped. "Keeps _me_ occupied a lot…"

"Care to tell me your story?" she asked, driving our conversation into a potential minefield. I had to make up a story—I just couldn't hit Sarah face-first with the idea that she had an older brother that she never knew about…not when the Queen of Blades had threatened me with infestation just three weeks back. And definitely not while I was hesitant to think of her as my sister, despite all evidence saying otherwise…

I had an idea: cut corners. I didn't need to give a false story…just not the full story.

"Any family?" she asked.

Ouch. "I never knew them," I said. "The Confederacy took me not long after I was born—files claim I died in the hospital after birth. I'm not quite sure how the Confederacy managed that. I started Ghost training when I was four…ended up killing my first man at six."

"Damn…" she trailed.

"That's not the half of what they did to me—but I don't see how this is any of your business," I said. "I wasn't involved on either side in the rebellion, but I got caught up in the Brood Wars. But surely I don't need to tell _your highness _about that living hell…"

"I…" she trailed, clearly stung by my words.

"That was a low blow," I apologized. "Still, it was a fact."

"Anyways, the Dominion decided I wasn't worth the trouble I might cause because I… developed a resistance to memory wipes," I said. "As you can guess, a Ghost like me was a potential danger to Mengsk—so I was charged with 'insubordination' and shot in the back."

"You make it sound like an understatement," Sarah commented.

I clarified. "I had a…falling out with the Dominion's 'beloved' Emperor before I got reassigned to a suicide mission. I've been a merc ever since then."

"Wait, you're _not_ a member of the Raiders?" she asked.

"No; I'm just an associate," I answered. "Look, don't try to get to know me. All you need to know is that I'm a man who's good at his job: killing. I'm a mercenary, assassin, a soldier—the whole nine yards. We can't _all_ be important…"

Sarah bit her lip, "I never _asked_ for any of this. I didn't ask to be infested, and I didn't ask to be important to some prophesy that might not even be true…"

"Nobody asks for a lot of things they get," I mutter. "Not you…not me…especially everyone who has died."

"What about you?" Sarah asked. "Did I…Did I do something to you, as the Queen of Blades?" Was I seriously hearing _regret_ in her voice? Maybe I'm tricking myself into hearing all this…or maybe I'm being a stubborn, judgmental bastard.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said. What I got away with both times was like a tickle compared to all the men, women and children who had lost their lives…all without having everything sorted out.

"I…I'm sorry…for everything…and everyone..." she apologized, desperation coloring her voice. To me, the apology seemed to echo in her cell, in the metallic corridor—it was as if it was pounding on the walls, trying to get out to the whole galaxy. But her victims would never hear her words, even if there were actually an afterlife.

I did, though—was that enough to convince me she was changed? Should I tell her the truth? I turned to find her head carried low, and the subtle glint of tears forming in her eyes.

"Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one who needs those tears," I said.

"It's funny," Sarah sighed. "Here I am, burdened with guilt, seeking atonement—but I can't do that in this cell. I'm powerless to touch anyone in here. I'm a monster locked in a cage, as all monsters should be…"

"We're all monsters in our own cages," I mused absentmindedly. "Not all our cages may be physical, but it's all the same. Your real cage isn't the cell you're in; your real cage is your past…your memories."

Despite not being entirely sure why I was sharing any of this, I continued. "I've had two trainers back when I was a Ghost. You've known one, I believe: Major Rumm. My second was Lieutenant Wolcott, who had the largest body count of any Ghost I knew then…real pleasant guy off-duty. He taught me one important thing that kept him going despite all he'd done: 'Your past doesn't determine who you are; it just gives you the starting point for who you're going to be.'"

"This trainer of yours sounds like a good man," Sarah said.

"We're Ghosts, Kerrigan," I corrected. "With everything we've done, it's impossible for us to truly become 'good' again, and the same goes for you." Her face lowered at that. "The best we can do is try to be better…and maybe someday, people will find that 'better' will be good enough…"

"How well are _you_ doing?" she asked me.

"It seems that for any good I do, twice as much harm results. I feel like I can't bring good—just perhaps remove some evil," I answered, saying what I felt would make her feel better. "You know, there's this book I read a while back: _For Whom the Bell Tolls_ by Ernest Hemingway. One of the lines was 'the world is a fine place, and worth fighting for'. Well, you've seen what humanity is capable of doing—killing, back-stabbing each other for money and power. It really gets one thinking…"

"Anyway, I feel there is no room for 'better' in my life—all I can do is to keep myself from getting worse. But you might be different," I continued. "Jim believes you and the Queen of Blades are two different beings—if that's true, then it's never too late for you to be better. You just have to choose to do so."

"Jim believes that, doesn't he?" she asked sadly, already knowing the answer. "You have your doubts, though—I can sense that. Don't worry…so do I."

Several tense seconds passed between us before she said, "Thank you…" My muscles clenched and my mind ground to a halt, trying to process the fact that Sarah was thanking _me_ of all people.

"For what?" I dared to ask.

"For just…giving me something to think about," she said before treading on light feet back to the cell's center.

Right…

I hoped that in the minutes that followed, I'd have a chance to think about the things I just said. It felt like instinct, and it made me wonder: could an older brother who had never met his little sister even _have_ a brotherly instinct to defend her—to comfort her, even when she had tried to kill him in the past?

Was it hatred I felt toward Sarah? Or was it an obsession to find out what kind of person she was before she was ever infested?

Too bad for me, I had no opportunity to answer any of the questions—I had just finished my cigarette when the red alert sounded, following a strong thud…


	5. Chapter 4: Hold the Line

**A/N: So, here we are: Chapter 4. Sadly, this is also where any updates become infrequent. I've made little in the way of progress with regards to Chapter 5, and I'm trying to play catch up with my college work, so it's unlikely that I'll be able to keep up my "once a month" routine. Those of you who have been following "Of Legends" should know that my problems extend to that, as well. **

**As usual, I neither own StarCraft, nor do I monetize off of this writing. That being said, if you enjoyed it, review and follow if you'd like.**

* * *

**November 24, 2504 – 18:00 Station Time**

**William "Billy" Kerrigan, AKA "Will Winter"**

"Lieutenant Winter, come in," Valerian's voice came from a nearby communications console. "Dominion troops are here and are boarding your part of the station—" the communications cut off, and I struggled a bit with hacking the console in an attempt to reestablish a link.

Static blared before communications were restored, "Will, this is Jim. Do you copy?"

"Copy, Jim," I replied. "Dominion forces haven't broken through to this area yet, but they'll force their way in here sooner or later."

"Will, the techs have tapped enemy comms—they're gunnin' for Sarah," Jim replied from the other side. "I'm making my way there with a squad of marines; I need you to hold the area until we get there. Lock it down —do whatever you need to do to keep those bastards at bay."

"Already on it," I said, using the console as an access point to configure the security systems. The station's IFF systems were a tad bit stubborn to work with, but I managed configure the automated sentries to ignore any targets with Raynor's squad's IFF transponders. "You're all clear, but any Dominion forces in the area are going to have to deal with the sentries. They will keep coming, though…Make your way here as quickly as you can. Out…"

The area outside of the cell consisted of four 13mm Gauss sentry guns armed with High-Explosive Armor Piercing rounds designed to explode a split-second after penetration. Don't ask me how the Umojans managed to make Gauss weapons propel explosive slugs without setting them off—I don't know. Anyway, each sentry was fully-automatic with a magazine capacity of 400 rounds, and were computer controlled.

"The Dominion's found us, haven't they?" Sarah's voice came from behind me. "They found _me_…"

I turned to meet her eyes behind the energy field. "That's right, lady. I've got several turrets outside ready to fill Dominion troops full of holes." I ejected my rifle's mag to check if it was full, and checked to see if the chamber was loaded.

"You _do_ realize that, to Mengsk, it doesn't matter how many marines or Ghosts die going after me," she said to me. "They're all expendable to him—as long as I die, he wouldn't care if he lost the entire Dominion military."

"I already got that memo, Kerrigan—like you, I was left for dead on his orders," I said as I faced the hacked panel. "The only difference is that he had me shot in the back, first." I broke the conversation off when the ammunition counter started decreasing. "And the bullets start flying…"

Tense minutes passed as the counters fell—390…380…375…350, and so on. Sentries A and B had run dry mere seconds ago, and squad after squad of marines had made their way into the kill zone of Sentries C and D. After those ran out, literally the only thing keeping them out of this room would be a garage-sized door made of about five inches of Neosteel…

"Jim, come in," I radioed. "I need you to move faster—they're nearly at the door."

"Hang in there, Will," Jim replied. "Things are getting hairy for us, too. Give us two minutes."

"You've only got about one minute before Dominion forces start knocking," I said. "The defenses are nearly dry!"

Turned out that I had been optimistic; the counters ticked over to zero, and mere seconds later, the entrance to the area blew open…

* * *

**Sarah Kerrigan**

Time seemed to slow to a crawl after the initial explosion. A fragment of a thick Neosteel door flew at Sarah, stopped by the shield wall and the bulletproof glass. Everything coming at her from the assailants seemed to move in slow-motion; everything, that is, except for the Ghost assigned to guard her—Winter, she thought she had heard.

Winter seemed to move full speed and changed targets faster than his weapon cycled, all the while radiating psionic energy. Some device on his left arm glowed and seemed to amplify his psionic output, but Sarah could also sense it taking a toll on his mind. The firepower behind his C-10's punched right through the marines' armor, shredding through torsos like wet paper. He retaliated to attacks from his blindside with a glare that radiated with psionic energy, engulfing his opponents in bright white light. Gurgles escaped from the victims and the light eventually subsided, leaving behind an impressive display of fragmented metal, mists of blood, and the dust of crushed bones.

Eventually, the glow from the device died down and time returned to normal. Lacking any opportunity to swap magazines, Winter had been reduced to taking on his opponents with nothing more than a sidearm. This wouldn't have been such a bad thing if it weren't for the fact that the sidearm was an old .45 caliber slugthrower—yet somehow, Winter made do with it. He repeatedly hit any marines foolish enough to keep their visors open in the head and used psionics otherwise, though his psionics lacked the power he had earlier displayed. Nonetheless, his power was impressive, and surpassed Sarah's own.

The sheer number of marines and Ghosts flooding the area were nothing compared to what the Zerg Swarm could have advanced, nevertheless, they were coming close to overwhelming Winter. When he dared to steal a glance toward Sarah, the strong butt of a rifle punished his moment of inattention with a blow to the head. She saw him fall to the ground, barely conscious and still looking her way.

Her eyes held his own eyes, pleading with him to drop the shield wall—that split second of non-verbal communication carrying her point across: "I can help you." Winter seemed happy to oblige, because his eyes glowed blue and some of the switches on a nearby panel moved.

The energy field around her cell flickered before dying. Sarah mustered all of the psionic energy in her reserves, and lashed out. The glass blew out, and every target still standing was sent flying away. Support beams came loose and fell, some beams serving to impale Dominion targets. The place went eerily quiet…

Sarah looked around for any resistance, picking up Winter's rifle in the process and loading it with scavenged ammunition. She caught movement in the rubble, and trained her sights there…

She saw an arm clothed in part of an HEV suit, but it wasn't Dominion standard coloration. She then saw the body the arm was attached to: Winter. She thumbed the safety on and moved the barrel away, all the while approaching the man. Though he was dazed, his injuries seemed minor.

"Easy," Sarah said as she approached. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The muzzle of his .45 was raised right towards her head, stopping her dead in her tracks. In spite of the situation, his face was _the _picture of chilling determination. "Don't count your cards too early, Kerrigan. I let you out, but I'm not keen on trusting you with my life, yet."

"I could have just let you die, Winter," Kerrigan mused.

"And then you would have likely died yourself," Winter pointed out. "I'm a convenient asset—always have been. Expendable; I have been used and then ordered disposed of by Mengsk. The Queen of Blades did the same thing during the Brood War. So don't you dare think I have no reason to be cautious."

Despite the valid point Winter had made, Sarah felt equal parts shame and anger. She dared ask, "What's stopping you from pulling that trigger, then?"

"Besides the obvious?" he asked before the muzzle of his .45 lowered. "I promised Jim I'd keep you alive—I would never hear the end of it otherwise."

Just as a question formed on her lips, a familiar voice rang out—one that made her insides melt and made her feel safe.

"Sarah!" Jim's drawl rang out.

"Jim!" she said as she turned toward his voice, finding him suited in his armor, sans helmet. He looked a bit disheveled; after fighting his way from one wing of the station to another, it was hardly surprising. She planted her lips on his as though by reflex, like one who had just narrowly escaped drowning.

She wasn't sure how long it went on, but the next thing she heard was, "Get a room, you two." Sarah broke off the kiss and turned to see the annoyed Winter back on his feet, holding a scavenged C-10 Mk VI. "Trade ya," he said.

The C-10s were traded with a toss, and soon both of them were completely loaded on ammo. "So," Winter said. "Jim, I thought you said 'we' were on the way?"

"There were four of us," Jim said. "Dominion Ghosts had us pinned not too far away—the three marines in my team died on our way here. I would've, too—but some type of shockwave hit the area, and the Ghosts went down and I got knocked out for a bit. That your doing, Will?"

"Nah," Winter said. "You've got your girlfriend to thank for that. We can talk about it later—in case you lovebirds forgot, the station is _still_ under Dominion assault. Do you have a dropship prepped?"

"Yeah," Jim said. "We started fighting from the crew quarters, and the Dominion might try for the hangars to cut us off."

"So we've gotta try to get there before they do—I got you," William said. He seemed to pause for a few seconds while thinking. "The fastest way I can think of is through the Prototype Weapons lab; with luck, we might even find some fine gear."


	6. Chapter 5: Archangel

**A/N: So, here it is: Chapter 5-this chapter has likely gone through more rewrites than Wings of Liberty and Heart of the Swarm _combined, _to say nothing about the rewrites my other active fics are going through. Anyways, I admit that one part of this may come across as a cop-out-but then again, this Fic's description states _outright_ that there would be several aspects of AU included in this story. And if you hadn't already figured _that_ out, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to rectify that.**

**BTW, to any of my most devoted followers (yes, all _one_ of you), see if you can spot where the fourth wall is being leaned on...**

* * *

**William "Billy" Kerrigan AKA "Will Winter"**

There's an old saying among soldiers dating all the way back to old Earth: "If your advance is going well, you're walking into an ambush." The saying is simple—it was Murphy's Law applied to combat in just one of many ways. There was no resistance on our way towards Prototype Weapons, but when we reached the section was when Murphy decided to rear its ugly head. The distinctive red armor of Dominion Marines seemed to flood the area, and as soon as they caught sight of us they opened fire with their C-14 rifles.

This being a laboratory area, there was nothing around to be used for cover without the 8mm spikes the rifles fired punching right through. The Dominion Marines, thankfully, didn't seem to fathom anything other than "point-and-shoot", so the three of us ended up spreading out to force them to split their fire. The tactic was working out well; I ended up killing Marines that were targeting Jim, while Sarah took out my attackers, and we were switching up who was covering who at any one time.

I never anticipated my rifle seizing up. The jam was odd—barring power loss to the Gauss system, modern firearms rarely malfunctioned—and then I felt everything from the bolt and receiver all the way to the magnetic coils blow out, completely destroying the rifle's barrel. Electricity formed around a subtle shimmer in the air, roughly in the shape of a human being. It was clearly a dissipating cloaking field—a Dominion Ghost had ended up joining the fray at the last minute, forcing me to switch to my sidearm. Conveniently, however, Sarah had sighted down and shot one round after another at the Ghost, so I didn't have to fire a shot. The ammo I ended up saving wasn't going to be of much use, however—my .45 used an old gunpowder and primer system as opposed to a Gauss system. And that wasn't going to do Jack against the CMC power armor used by marines.

How fortunate, then, that I had suggested we cut through Prototype Weapons…

With every foe cleared out for the moment, I took a minute to get my bearings. I recognized the area, and this part of Prototype Weapons housed experimental rifles and energy weapon systems. I took a look at one of the consoles, and apparently there was only one weapon that had actually been completed: the Umojan eggheads had designated it the X-ACC-6 (Experimental Adaptive Canister Carbine, Model 6). This was a 25mm Gauss Rifle, much like the C-10 and C-20A in service with Dominion Ghosts.

What distinguished it from the other two was its "bullpup" design—both the magazine and the action were located behind the trigger group, giving it an overall shorter length. The center of gravity was further aft and closer to the user's body, making it better suited to high-mobility close quarters combat without completely sacrificing sniping capabilities. Hell, let's just call it what it is: a standard C-10 Mk. VI, reworked to be shorter and overall more maneuverable. And incidentally, this matched my combat style perfectly, because I just _love_ close-quarters fighting. Cold, methodical sniping was all dandy, but the adrenaline kicks most in close quarters—where the fighting is thickest.

In any case, it was the only one of its model—plus, it was conveniently looking at me…

Reports had shown that it worked on the range, but it had yet to be tested in an actual combat situation. I reckoned I could oblige the eggheads, so I got to work hacking open the containment field.

"Awfully convenient that there just _happened_ to be a prototype rifle in there," Sarah said.

"Yes, it's almost as if we were in the '_Prototype Weapons_' wing ," I emphasized with sarcasm, not expecting Sarah to have said something so damn dense and barely managing to hold back even more snide remarks. "I'll have this open in no time at all…"

Still, she _did_ have a point: a carbine was here, and we _happened_ to find it not long after my previous weapon was rendered inoperable by a Ghost. The whole situation stuck me as some sort of contrived coincidence. I was in no position to be picky about getting weapons right now, however. The console flashed green, and the door opened; right there, suspended in a zero-gee field, was the carbine in question. I wasn't bothered by the lack of a scope on the thing—I didn't need one. The reflex sight on this carbine would do just nicely…

I took a few seconds to adjust to how back-heavy it was compared to the C-10 and to adapt to the action, and then I let the others know that I was ready to move out.

* * *

**Specimen Laboratory**

"Ugh, figures. Your little show a day ago is coming back to bite us in the ass," I said.

Murphy's Law struck _yet _again: all exits from Prototype Weapons leading directly to the hangar were either collapsed or sealed off, forcing us to double back and go through the specimen labs. And _that_ meant going through several Zerglings…

"Good lord, woman," Jim said. "How many Zerglings did you make?"

"Yeah," Sarah admitted. "I might have gone a little overboard…"

"So now Kerrigan's the Queen of Understatement?" I asked. "I didn't think I'd have to go through _this_ shit again so soon…"

"Easy there, Will," Jim said. "This ain't the same as Char…"

"I know, it's just…goddamn it. Just forget it," I said. "Let's get this over with…"

Between the three of us, getting past the Zerglings was a fairly simple—if rather uncomfortable—matter. The only real difficulty came from the Dominion's current top Ghost, November "Nova" Terra, attempting to lock down the area and cut us off from the hangar.

Let's just say that I've met this Nova once or twice. With me being blacklisted by the Dominion as a rogue Ghost, Nova was now basically Mengsk's personal lapdog—he wouldn't have entrusted an operation this big to her if she didn't have what he wanted in a Ghost. She was pretty much convinced that the Dominion was in the right and that everyone else was in the wrong. Regardless, we fought our way past the Dominion and Zerglings alike, clearing the area just as the blast doors closed.

"The hangar bay should be just up ahead," Jim barely had time to utter out before I stopped abruptly.

"What is it, Will?" Jim asked.

I pointed the carbine directly to a shadow and said, "Nova…"

She knew as well as I did that there was no use in attempting to hide from _my_ senses—she promptly uncloaked in front of me. "Been a while…Billy."

"Shut up…" I growled. "Jim! Sarah! You two should get out of here!"

"Will…" Sarah started.

"You both heard me: go! I've got her."

"You don't really think I'm stupid enough to face White Death on my _own_, do you?" Nova asked as eleven other Ghosts uncloaked, forming a circle around the three of us.

"We'll be taking Kerrigan dead or alive—preferably dead," Nova said. "And, if fortune favors us, we'll kill you too, Billy—no one loves a deserter."

"You'll have to go through me first, sweetheart!" Jim roared.

"Jim, don't play hero!" I yelled just as the Ghosts started firing.

Holding Sarah back with one arm and aiming the carbine with the other, I opened fire to defend Jim. I nailed maybe three Ghosts before more Dominion marines flooded the area. It was time I got serious; I reached to activate the Amplifier…

Shit! The Psi Amplifier hadn't yet recovered from the last use, and my energy reserves were still depleted from the fight through the specimen lab. I managed to put a few shots through multiple marines, each spike going through one to hit another.

And then, a sharp impact threw Sarah and me across the bridge to the landing pads. I had just recovered when massive bombs hit the bridge and destroyed it, completely separating Jim from us. However, I was focused more on the massive mechanical monstrosity in front of us…

The thing resembled an oversized Viking, but with a far meaner armament loadout. The air-to-air missiles had been replaced with what appeared to be ground-to-ground missiles to accompany the chain guns—the monster had been further modified with free-fall bombs.

The contraption looked like it could destroy an entire Zerg hive cluster on its own. It probably wouldn't be wise to fight the giant, but we didn't really have a choice: the bridge leading back to Jim was destroyed, and even if we got to the dropship, we would likely be dead before we could even take off.

"This is Archangel," the communicators intercepted. "Targets acquired—commencing attack."

* * *

**A/N: For fun, I'm going to add unit quotations for William.**

**When Trained:**  
**-"Ready for Op"**  
**-"Confirming Status: Active"**

**When selected:**  
**-"Awaiting orders..."**  
**-"Comm-link open..."**  
**-"Yeah?"**  
**-"Amplifier online and ready..."**  
**-"What's the situation?"**

**Repeatedly selected:**  
**-(Deadpan)"I'm bored...maybe I'll shoot you for fun..."**  
**-"Would you kindly give me an order to follow?"**  
**-"Check those corners...check those corners!"**  
**-(Deadpan)"You are the worst...commander...ever pause of all time."**  
**-"Let me introduce you to a personal friend of mine..."**  
**-"Say 'hello' to my little friend!"**  
**-"Like the old saying goes: 'When in doubt...C4'!"**  
**-"I don't recall 'you will just stand there and talk' as being in my contract."**

**Attacked:**  
**-"Taking fire!"**  
**-(Deadpan)"I've made contact with the enemy..."**

**Move Order**  
**-"Moving..."**  
**-"Enroute..."**  
**-"I'm Oscar Mike..."**  
**-"Yes, sir."**  
**-"Yeah, yeah...I'm on it."**

**Attack Order**  
**-(Deadpan)"Engaging..."**  
**-"This guy's history, chief..."**  
**-"He's dead and he doesn't even know it..."**  
**-(Deadpan)"This'll be over quick..."**  
**-(Deadpan)"Lights out..."**

**Other quotes**  
**-"Mission abort..." (when killed)**  
**-"Here...why here?" (when killed)**  
**-"Oh...shit. (when killed)**  
**-"Not the smoothest ending to my...career..." (when killed)**  
**-"You're dead NOW!" (Psi Amplifier activated)**  
**-"This might hurt a little!" (Psi Amplifier activated)**  
**-"The strain..." (Psi Stress levels rising)**  
**-"Argh...can't hold it anymore!" (Stress maxed, health draining).**


	7. Author's Announcement

**This is an announcement to readers to let you know that, due to current engagements as well as general writer's block, I'll need to declare Wrath of the Swarm to be ****dormant**** at this moment. I apologize for any disappointment this might cause.**

**Actually, I'd like to point out that "Wrath of the Swarm" has been a working title that I never got to refining. Depending on circumstances, I might remove and reupload this story with a refinement or two to some of the events. I thank any viewers for their continued support.**

**I have ****_no_**** plans to let this story die, however. Rest assured that I ****_will_**** resume this as soon as I can.**

**On another subject, I thought it would be fun to post a poll on who William's voice actor would be. At current, the candidates on my list are: **

**Geoff Ramsey**

**Roger Craig Smith**

**Kirk Thornton**

**Elias Toufexis**

**Quinton Flynn**

**Gunner Wright**

**Yuri Lowenthal**

**Feel free to leave your thoughts as a review or PM.**

**Thank you for your understanding.**


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